The Secret of Every Disney Tale
by TheTrulyBeautifulOne
Summary: There is a very deep secret behind every Disney tale. No one knows of it, but everyone has experienced it. This story is the story of a spy who discovers this secret. Will she prevent it from being exposed to the world? Or will she be the one to expose it? Rated K-plus for interest level, but suitable for K.
1. What's In a Name?

**A/N: This is my very first fanfic. I wrote this and knew I had to post it somewhere, and since it will be Disney-related later, I figured I would create an account and post it here. I promise this is not as dark as it sounded in the summary. I was trying not to give away anything, and I think I might have tried a little too hard. Ah well. "Forward! Thus the bowl should run," as Shakespeare would say.**

**Disclaimer: This applies to the whole story, so I hope you're reading this, Walt! As much as I wish I could, since right now I would be vacationing on the Riviera with my personal valet, I do not own Disney or any of its franchises.**

* * *

><p><strong> Chapter 1: What's In a Name?<strong>

* * *

><p>What's in a name? Now, most of you reading this will roll your eyes, scoff, and throw this paper aside at this over-abused cliché. Especially since it originated from <em>Romeo and Juliet<em>. But I will ask you, as the supreme overlord of this book, to not scoff or roll your eyes. There is a scientific study that shows that those who participate in this behavior have been known to die alone. In a dark alley. So in the best interest of your life, I suggest you continue reading.

Back to the name question. Everybody knows those common names, like Hannah, Jessica, Jacob, et cetera. Anyone with those names is likely to have their name accompanied by the first letter of their surname. I once heard of a kindergarten class that had six Hannahs in it. They numbered them Hannah 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6. I knew Hannah 6. However, this was never the case of our main character. _Her_ parents, upon her birth picked her up, gazed into her baby blue eyes and said… "Zerubbabel."

… … … … … … Just wanted to give you some time to process that. You must understand that Zerubbabel's parents meant well in giving her such a unique name. They thought it would make her stand out more, instead of being the quiet little nobody they knew she was doomed by genes to be. But for some unfathomable reason, no one else seemed to understand this. She was often laughed at for her name, and even called other names. She learned to endure this throughout elementary and junior high school. In an effort to make her sound more presentable or, well, _human_, her friends gave her the nickname Babby. This didn't really help anything, and they really couldn't begin to comprehend why. Eventually, though, Zerubbabel learned to tell everyone upon entrance to a new school year that her name was Zerubbabel and if they had a problem with it, she would give them a problem right in the mouth.

During sophomore year, one very popular and handsome boy had the audacity to taunt her. "Did your mom just puke and they named you after the sound she made?" he asked. Approximately two minutes later, the nurse's office became unusually excited with a student reporting imminent death, also known as a broken nose. After that incident, most students who valued their sense of smell or taste treaded carefully when they spoke Zerubbabel's name.

This outbreak of teenage toughness as a result of her name fueled Zerubbabel's desire to join an area of work that allowed her to channel this toughness in an acceptable way. Therefore, she was recruited by a small private detective agency at age sixteen. It is also important for you to know that despite her rather unusual name, Zerubbabel had been named the "Most Likely to Become a Model" champion of her class for five years running. This meant that when she was recruited by the agency, called NINJA, they recruited her merely so they could have a flirtatious beauty to distract their enemy while the real agents did the "tough guy" work. She came to despise being the shallow temptress only used as bait in the very worst (though in her case, best of) circumstances, but work was work and she still had high hopes that she would someday move her way up to the more interesting work in the agency. So she stuck with them.

Many of her cases played out thusly: your everyday corrupt politician would meet a beautiful girl and take her to all the nicest restaurants, but right before he kissed her, the men that had been disguised as waiters all along would apprehend him and find out where his ill-gotten monetary gain was. They became very good friends with Swiss banks. And Zerubbabel wouldn't even be given even an insignificant share of the money.

However, she still continued in her hopes to do the real dirty work someday, so she began looking for a beauty to replace her. She searched and searched on the streets and at her university, for she was by now twenty years old, but she could not find a beauty to take her place. Most of them were too busy canoodling around to actually be able to hold onto an unattractive, most of the time bald, politician without any kind of payment.

Finally, Zerubbabel got so frustrated when the other agents only arrived barely in time to rescue her from kissing the most recent Baldie that she stomped over to the office to confront her boss.

"Am I only to ever be the floozy to run around with all those disgusting men for the rest of my life? Do you actually believe I will settle for that?! I have taken every class there is on the art of self-defense, yet you still won't let me do the dirty work the men do!"

"Yes," he replied.

"What?"

"Yes, I originally intended for you to continue to be a- what did you call it again?- 'floozy', but if you are dissatisfied with that, I'm sure we could find someone to replace you so you can move up."

Zerubbabel deflated, shaking her head. "I've looked everywhere. The more beautiful the girl, the less she wants anything to do with bald governors."

"Ah," stated her boss, "That's where you're wrong. You just haven't been looking in the right place. Now, I once kept tabs on one lovely woman named Indie. Perhaps you may have heard of her?"

"No. I would remember _that_ name."

Ignoring this jab, he continued, "Well, about a year ago I had a few agents keep an eye on her, seeing as she was involved in a certain routine bout of greed and corruption. You wouldn't know of the case, since I deemed it unimportant to tell you as it involved a woman instead of a man.

"Anyway, we kept tabs on her. She was very beautiful, even more so than you. I tracked her movements until we solved the case, and then burned all records of her movements. We are not the IRS here."

"So, what's your point?"

"I want you to track down this woman and convince her to join us. If you do, I will gladly promote you."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I hope you enjoy rubbing bald heads."

"Right. Do you have any idea where I can begin my search?"

"Why, on social media, of course. When we tracked her before, she travelled around a lot, and since I'll be paying for your plane ticket, I think it's best if you Facebook stalk her first. Last time an agent spotted her, she was exquisitely beautiful, with blonde hair and blue eyes. She speaks fluent French and English and adores animals."

"Then wouldn't it be better if I started my search in France?"

"Only if you want to pay for it yourself," he answered in a dangerous tone.

"Gee, I guess I'd better start Googling. What's her last name?"

"That, my friend, is your job to find out. Now leave me alone."

"Yes sir."

* * *

><p><strong>Yet another AN: Hope you enjoyed that! I am working on the second chapter currently, and will post it next week. Trust me, this is not the end! In the meantime, click that little "Review" button and type something up for me. I promise, it only hurts a tiny bit more than a cattle prod.**


	2. Needle In a Haystack

**A/N: Here's chapter 2, just as I promised. This is kind of a transition chapter, so I don't like it as much. Things should pick up again within the next couple chapters or so. Depends what kind of mood I'm in. In the meantime, I present you the long-awaited chapter 2!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2: Needle In a Haystack<strong>

* * *

><p>Zerubbabel headed back to her tiny cubicle. The sole things that even fit in there were a mirror, a vanity crammed with every type of makeup she would ever need, and a chair. Piled on the vanity were magazines of the latest fashions. In short, all the weapons of a vile temptress. She plopped herself into the swivel chair and checked her makeup in the oversized mirror. If she was only going to become a useful agent when she found this Indie lady, let's just say she'd better start reading up on new makeup techniques soon.<p>

Distractedly, she tugged her phone out of her dress pocket. The phone remained the single material benefit of her work at NINJA. Besides all the free makeup, but Zerubbabel did _not_ consider that a benefit. Those sickening little bottles were more like shackles to her. Once she had finally freed her device, she typed in her password and pulled up her browser. She typed in "Indie". Suddenly, she paused, her thumbs hovering over the keyboard. How was she ever going to find one woman out of seven billion people in the entire world, when all she had to go on was her first name?

Hesitantly, tentatively, Zerubbabel accompanied her previous search with the word "France". Sure enough, all that came up was information about the most recent French Indie band's hit song. Turning her screen off, Zerubbabel tossed the phone aside. She turned like a pendulum in her chair, left, right, left, right, as she contemplated her predicament. The Internet was out of the question for finding this Indie lady at the moment. She didn't have the faintest idea where to go now.

As she sat deliberating the best course of action, she heard a knock on her wall. "Come in," she responded. In walked one of her co-workers, Art.

"Hey there," he said, leaning against the thin wall.

"Hey yourself."

He went on as though her response had been courteous rather than curt, "I heard you squeaking your chair into an early grave, and I wondered if you wanted some help tossing it."

"No thanks. I can't really afford a new one at the moment, and I would rather not be left standing for another month before my next paycheck comes."

"Really, what's wrong?"

"Let's just say the term 'Mission: Impossible' has a whole new meaning for me. The ever so kind and thoughtful boss has assigned me the task of finding a needle in a haystack."

"Surely it can't be that bad."

Finally exploding, Zerubbabel started ranting, "Oh yes, it can be that bad. The whole reason I joined this agency was so the exciting agent work would brighten up my drab existence, but my life is even duller than it was before. I _hate_ being a stupid little girl whose only purpose is to be a distraction! I _hate_ the fact that I am the lowest paid worker in this entire agency! I _hate_ everything in this undersized room!" She buried her face in her hands.

"Ummm… Wow. I didn't know you felt that way. Why haven't you resigned?"

She shook her head, still buried in her hands. Her muffled but steady voice came, "I kept hoping that I would somehow be promoted. But now I'm told that the only way I'll be promoted is if I complete an impossible task."

"Well, what's the task? Maybe I can help."

"I have to find this lady named Indie. She speaks fluent French and English, loves animals, and has blonde hair and blue eyes. As if any of that information is remotely sufficient for finding her."

"Really?" Art asked, almost sounding as though he were about to smile, which was really a ridiculous notion.

"Yes. I don't even know where to begin. I already tried Google."

"Well," he replied, shifting his gaze to the upper corner of the room, "You could try asking."

"Ask who? All the records we have of her were burned from the time we tracked her."

"True, but memories can't be burned."

"No they can't- wait," Zerubbabel said slowly, "Do you mean to say- could you be- you were one of the people to track her?"

"Yep. I charted her movements from Russia all the way to Portugal."

"Then you can tell me what I need to know!"

"I can try. Mind you, I was not hired here for my memory, but I am at your disposal. Ask away."

She pulled out a notepad and found a pen in her little sequined purse. "Okay. First off, what is her last name?"

His face fell. "I'm sorry, Zerubbabel, but that was the only thing I couldn't find out for the life of me."

"No matter, no matter," she said, "Age?"

"Twenty-seven."

"Approximate height?"

"Hmmm... I _think_ it was about 5 feet 10 inches. But I could be wrong."

Disregarding his uncertainty, Zerubbabel went on,"Birthplace?"

"Alsace, France."

"Last place you spotted her?"

"Juncal, Portugal."

The two of them went on in this manner for several minutes before Zerubbabel had most of the information she needed. Upon completion of the interrogation, Art was called in for a new case.

Zerubbabel slumped back in her chair... and nearly fell over. She caught herself on the vanity in the nick of time. Normally she would have reprimanded herself for being so careless, but she was too giddy with excitement to register that she had just narrowly avoided a trip to the emergency room. She had information about Indie! She knew her movements! She had a chance of finding her!

Smiling, she reached her long legs up the vanity to set her stiletto-d feet upon it. The adrenaline rush was beginning to wear off by now. She still had no idea where to begin. Certainly she had more information to go off of this time, but she had to face the opposite issue of having so much she didn't know where to start. She opened her notepad again and analyzed all the places Art said Indie had been. Russia was definitely not the place to look, especially since she heard that they didn't take too kindly to Americans. She kept going down the list, then came to an abrupt stop at the bottom. Of course! What better place to visit than the beauty's birthplace? There would be a good potential for meeting family who knew where she was, or at the very least childhood friends who knew her well enough to guess. Zerubbabel jumped up from her seat, grabbed her phone from the place it had landed earlier, and squeezed herself out of her tiny cubicle. She very nearly sprinted over to her boss's office and strode in without knocking.

"Zerubbabel," he welcomed, "What a nice surprise."

"Book me the next flight to Alsace, France."

"Whatever for?"

"Indie."

"Say no more." Her tone must have warned him that this was no wild guess. He furiously logged on to his computer and pulled up the Internet. "The next flight is in half an hour. You'd better head out right now if you want to catch it."

"I'm on my way," she yelled back out of the doorway.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I hope that wasn't too tedious. I am almost finished with chapter 3, and should have it up next week. None of you would stay with me if I spoiled you with too many chapters all at once! Please review and tell me how boring this chapter was. Go ahead. I can take it.**


	3. Insane Asylum

**A/N: Here is chapter 3, just as I promised! I had some fun writing this chapter, as you will see later in the story. This one isn't as polished as the last few have been, since I began writing it yesterday due to lack of motivation, and finished it today. I have read through it though, and it should be all right. I hope you guys enjoy! Also, please note that my flight experience has been extremely limited to starship flights between Star Fleet Academy- Mars and Earth, so I may have gotten some things about the flight wrong. Thanks to _Austenland_ and the later mentioned group below for, erm, lending me their names.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3: Insane Asylum<strong>

* * *

><p>Brown. Utterly putrid, steaming brown. Zerubbabel fixed her gaze on her designer blouse, watching that brown splotch's unwanted presence. No matter how hard she stared, it did not dissipate into nothingness. She then stared up at the blonde stewardess who was apologizing profusely, something about being knocked into while she was bringing the coffee to another passenger. Zerubbabel turned her head back down to continue to gaze in wonder at the discoloration. After a few minutes had passed, she snapped out of her trance, realizing that the stewardess was still there, hanging her head in shame. "It's fine," she assured her, "I was looking for an excuse to change into the T-shirt in my carry-on anyway." As she said this, she pulled the bag down from above her. The stewardess appeared relieved, and tried to say, "I'm so sor-"<p>

"Don't worry about it," Zerubbabel said, waving her hand, "If you grab another cup of coffee quick enough, the grumpy old man back there might not notice."

"Thank you, Miss," the bubbly young stewardess giggled as she practically bounced away.

"No problem," Zerubbabel murmured distractedly as she rummaged in her bag. She let out an exclamation of joy when she discovered her favorite ragged "I Love Darcy" T-shirt. Heading toward the back of the plane to change in the bathroom, she caught sight of the smiling stewardess handing a very old, very wrinkly man a steaming mug of coffee. Smiling to herself, she walked into the bathroom and shut the door.

When she sauntered out, it was to spot a scene just as dull and drab as her life. Zerubbabel headed over to her seat, taking care not to make eye contact with any of the men she knew were gawking at her. One woman wearing a diamond on her ring finger smacked her spouse upside the head. Rubbing his head, he turned back around to face forward, but Zerubbabel could've sworn she saw his gaze shifting back in her direction on more than one occasion. Upon reaching her luxurious chair, she slumped down in it and stared out the circular window to her left. She had been on the flight for about six hours, only halfway through her trip. The previous six hours she had spent reading, sleeping, and gazing out the window. She was likely to spend the upcoming six hours reading, sleeping, and gazing out the window. Zerubbabel settled down for what was to be a very long flight.

* * *

><p>Fresh, clean European air wafted through Zerubbabel's olfactory senses as she hobbled her way across the terminal with her suitcase and carry-on in tow. She hoped to hail a taxi and have the driver chauffeur her over to the hotel she had made reservations at during her flight. Speed-dialing her boss on her sleek cell phone, she informed his answering machine that she had arrived in France, had not spent more of his money than was strictly necessary, and hoped he would call her back soon. As she hung up the call, she noticed someone out of the corner of her eye: a very young woman, with blonde hair and blue eyes, dragging three little poodles around. She seemed to be arguing with someone on the phone in rapid, perfect French. <em>Could it be?<em> Zerubbabel wondered as she changed direction. She then witnessed another woman going up to the French cell phone one, and she was close enough to hear her called Addie. Zerubbabel sighed, turned back around, and once again headed for the glass doors.

A taxi ride later, Zerubbabel was at the middle-class hotel she had booked for the night. All of her luggage was on the floor, with her on her bed, thinking. There was no hope for it. She would have to knock on Indie's front door. At least then she would know whether Art was mistaken about the entire thing or not.

Another long taxi ride later, Zerubbabel found herself in the country. Admiration at the beauty of it all overwhelmed her. The earthy road had a rustic essence. Even the trees and distant homes made the whole area seem like one big fairy tale. Zerubbabel snorted to herself. Next thing she knew, she would start singing about the arrival of her prince while playing with her perfectly friendly pet tiger. That was just what she needed; an increase in her insanity. Though she might not have to pay rent on her condominium anymore if she were to admit herself into an insane asylum. _Hmm,_ she thought, _now _there's_ an idea._ Double-checking the address written in her perfect cursive on the open notebook page, Zerubbabel approached the front door of a cottage.

No sooner had she knocked then someone wrenched the weathered door open. "If you've come again to try and convince me to waste my money on that silly little bucket of plastic and bolts you call a plow," the plump woman before her threatened, "you've got another thing coming."

"Oh no, I- I'm not a solicitor. Please, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Zerubbabel, and I've-"

"Hold on," replied the matronly woman, raising her hand in front of herself as though she were a police officer directing traffic, "What did you say your name was?"

_Oh, great. Here we go again._ "I said I am Zerubbabel, and-" she tried again, but stopped abruptly. The woman was in absolute hysterics. The stout woman continued in letting out peals of laughter so loud that Zerubbabel wondered why the whole country hadn't come to see what was going on.

When she gained control of herself, the woman allowed Zerubbabel to enter her home, declaring that to be the best laugh she had had in a good few years. Zerubbabel was most decidedly glad that she had let her in so openly, and that she spoke English so fluently. She was also most decidedly un-glad that the woman had allowed herself to be overwhelmed with such indecent mirth at Zerubbabel's name. Setting her pride aside for the moment, Zerubbabel cut to the chase. "Madame," she began, waiting for the woman to turn around and make eye contact, "I am not going to beat around the bush here. I'm looking for your daughter."

"Oh, yes, yes," the woman answered distractedly, "But it's hard to know which daughter you mean. I have two, but I still haven't quite figured out which one is which yet."

Taken aback by this, Zerubbabel blurted out, "You mean they're twins?"

"Oh, no. They don't look alike at all. But their personalities are so similar that I never even bothered to learn the difference between the two."

"Ummm… that makes sense," Zerubbabel lied through her teeth, "But I wanted to ask about Indie."

"Oh. Indie."

"Is there something the matter?"

"Indie is not one of my daughters. We are not even related, as far as I am concerned." She smiled suddenly, revealing a slight dimple in her right cheek. "But, no matter. What do you wish to know?"

"I wondered if you might have any idea as to where she might be at the moment. I was sent here to offer her employment at my-" she searched for an acceptable profession- "greeting card company."

"Greeting-card company? I wasn't even aware anyone bothered with those anymore."

"Well," Zerubbabel huffed, "now you do."

"Apparently. I'm afraid Indie hasn't been in France for the past few years now. She seems to loathe this place ever since she got engaged."

"Indie's engaged?" Apparently Art had not deemed this information important enough to mention.

"Why yes, darling. She's been engaged for a long time now, but keeps putting the wedding off. You can imagine her fiancé is a little miffed with her at the moment."

"Yes, I can imagine. So where is she?"

"I believe she went on tour as a member of the cast of some musical. _Sandalla,_ or _Cindy-Loo-Who_, or something along those lines."

"It couldn't possibly be _Cinderella,_ could it?"

"Why, I believe you are right. Such a lovely play, though I must say very undesirable costumes. Imagine going around in public, pretending you're a fictional character. I'm glad I never allowed my girls to participate in such behavior. Every time they came to me to beg me to allow them just the one little play with their friends, I said 'No. You are much too old to behave in such silly ways.' I would then send them off to practice powdering rouge on their cheeks. 'Your cheeks can never be too red,' I have always said-"

"Yes, that's very lovely indeed," Zerubbabel interrupted, "if you don't mind my asking, what is the name of the theatre company she is traveling with?"

"Let's see… If my memory serves correctly, she was with the _Inplayers International Drama Group Amsterdam._ Yes, that was it. Most improper name, too. What is an inplayer, anyway? Or are theatre people convinced they are so high and mighty that they can make up whatever words they want to and get away with it? It must be the Dutch in them-"

Zerubbabel tiptoed out of the house while the old woman was still babbling away. She wasn't even sure if she noticed. After hailing yet another taxi, Zerubbabel assessed her situation. A trip to Amsterdam seemed in order, hopefully to find Indie and not another verbose friend. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed her boss.

"I need more money. I'm flying to Amsterdam tomorrow."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: And that brings us to the end of yet another chapter!**

**Fifty brownie points go to Pearl Bramble of Willowbottom for being my very first reviewer! If all you readers out there (yes, I know you exist. I can stalk-er- track my views on this story. So yes. There is no hiding from me) review in the next week, you will get 100 brownie points and a free TheTrulyBeautifulOne kumquat! I know this offer is too tempting to resist. Go on. Click the review button. Type something up. It might even be painless.**


	4. Zippers

**A/N: Hello my lovely readers! I am back, and I bring you the gift of chapter 4! I really don't think I wrote this chapter very well; it's kind of another filler before the fun stuff begins. I'm pretty sure I broke every rule of grammar there is in it, but since I'm the author I can do what I want.**

**Also, for those of you who don't know what Murphy's Law is, it states: Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. You'll thank me later.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4: Zippers<strong>

* * *

><p>What was the motivation behind zippers, anyway? Were they <em>really<em> invented for the betterment of mankind? Did someone _really_ look at buttons and think, _Wouldn't it be easier if you only had to pull on a tiny piece of metal so the bag would close…_ and shazam! zippers were born? Zerubbabel made a mental note to ask Art to check it out and make sure, because she seriously doubted it as she sat on her suitcase and tried to yank the zipper around. _She _believed zippers had come about in a much different fashion: Whitcomb L. Judson had simply been wondering, _How can I bring untold misery to mankind?_, saw a button, and invented them right there on the spot. That method seemed much more plausible to Zerubbabel, especially as she started eyeing the heaviest thing (her dresser) in the room.

She felt the pocket of her dress buzz. Out came her phone and in went the ear buds she had just pulled from her earringed ears. Glancing at the screen to check who it was, she was not surprised to see her boss's number glaring up at her. She accepted the call and greeted him.

"Hello?"

"So, you're in Amsterdam, huh?" questioned her boss lazily.

"Yep. I was just um-," her eyes wandered over to the overstuffed suitcase on her bed, "unpacking."

"So I figured. I wanted to ask for a report of how much of my money you've been using."

_His_ money. "I suppose. Hold on." Zerubbabel hurried over to her purse, which was lying on the desk. She rummaged through it for a minute before extracting her trusty notepad and pen. This held all the secrets of how much money she'd spent. She spoke into the phone, acknowledging his presence, and gave him a report of all the money she'd spent, how she'd spent it, where she'd spent it, and whether it was strictly necessary. If she weren't such an honest person, she gladly would've scammed him. Not too much money, but enough for him to notice and become upset. Unfortunately, she valued having a steady job she liked over avenging herself on her boss. "And that last one was completely necessary. Did you expect me to starve during the flight?"

"Hmmm… I suppose not.

"It seems your affairs are in order. I will call you again in three days. Have your next report ready by then."

"Yes sir."

When she heard silence on the other end, Zerubbabel turned her screen off and threw the phone aside. It landed on her bed next to her suitcase with a small thud.

"Ahhhh…" she sighed as she lowered herself into the swivel chair and placed her wedges on the desk. "I'm never moving again." As Murphy's Law would have it, no sooner had she settled down to take a nap in this position than her phone rang again. "Noooo," she groaned.

Zerubbabel initially ignored the unwanted caller, but when her phone buzzed on her bed again, she was forced to get up and see who it was. Art's name flashed on the screen. Zerubbabel answered, though in a condescending manner.

"Yeah?"

"Hey Zerubbabel."

"Do you have any particular reason for calling? Because I'm really busy right now." She crossed her index and middle fingers behind her back.

"Actually, I do. I thought you might like to know that since I started poking around some more, I found out where the _Inplayers_ are tonight."

"What?" asked Zerubbabel, momentarily stunned.

"I thought you would be glad," Art replied with a smile in his voice, "Not that I believed that you wouldn't be able to figure it out on your own. I thought I would help you out."

"Do you hear me complaining? Where are they?"

"The K-O-N-I-N-K-L-I-J-K Theatre Carré. Don't ask me how to pronounce that first one. I already told you I wasn't hired for my brains."

"The Koninklijk?" confirmed Zerubbabel, in perfect Dutch.

"However, you apparently were. So am I of some use yet, or am I still only a second-rate spy?"

"Well, your information is useful, so I'd venture to say it's rubbed off on you. I really need to get going though. The next train there leaves in fifteen minutes."

"Oh, alright. Talk to you later… hopefully."

"Bye."

Zerubbabel sighed once more as she picked her purse up off the desk and stuck her phone back in her pocket. So much for grabbing a nap. She swung her door open and nearly collided with a small child. Strangely enough, when Zerubbabel bent over to make sure he was alright, she was confronted with the face of a grown man.

"Hey!" he shouted. "Watch where you're going! Seriously!"

"Ummmm…" Zerubbabel was at a complete loss for words. Her brain was working double time to process the man's height. When it finally completed its task, she registered his anger.

"I'm sorry, I was just walking out and must not have been watching where I was going," she apologized.

"Tall people. They all think they're so high and mighty, but short people know better! We know we're a thousand times better than you will ever be, and what's more, there's nothing a tall person can do that a short person can't."

This guy needed some serious help. "Look, I'm sorry, I'll watch next time, okay?" Zerubbabel tried.

"No! Your kind have taken one step too far. This means war!"

Gaping in disbelief, Zerubbabel began to stumble backward.

"There's no escaping me! You're coming with me to see what my brothers make of you."

_Wait, brothers?_ "Hold on. Exactly where do you want me to go?"

"To my home, of course. I've heard it's called the Amsterdam Metro these days."

"The what?"

"If you will kindly follow me," the dwarf smiled an evil grin.

Still stupefied with shock, Zerubbabel followed him across the hallway, in the elevator, and out the glass front doors of the hotel, with people gawking at them the whole way.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So like I said, not my favorite. I began writing this yesterday, but it wasn't turning out the way I wanted it to, so I deleted and started over. I'll probably go back and edit this one so it won't be as painful to read. Just give me your ideas on how to make it better, I am all ears!**

**Congratulations to "Guest", the winner of the one hundred brownie points and TheTrulyBeautifulOne kumquat for their review! Let's give them a round of applause! *clapping* Thank you for your kind contribution to a desperate soul such as myself *hands kumquat* The brownie points will be added to your account. *more clapping* And now, to announce the next prize! The next person to review within a week will receive *drum roll* A reenactment of Pompeii on their school and a _real_ brownie! *gasping* Thank you both for your reviews and good night!**

**Have a great week! Review and berate me for how disappointed you are in me for writing this chapter. Trust me. I love the attention.**


	5. Fly Me to--well, Mars

**A/N: Just as every other Tuesday, I have written the next chapter! I am much, much happier with the way this one turned out. I know the last one was painful to read, so I hope this one isn't. Have fun!**

**Thank you to Studio C for the cheese line. I owe you guys one. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5: Fly Me to... well, Mars<strong>

* * *

><p>I want to talk about cheese. Now, I realize that this seems to be coming out of the blue, but I assure you it's not. Cheese has been on my mind for quite some time now, what with the New Year and all. The New Year is a time for reflection, a time to ponder what we did wrong the previous year, and commiserate on how we can improve the next year. My goal was to think about cheese instead of the Logic I have been studying at Star Fleet Academy. When you really think about it, cheese is such a unique food. Wheels of cheese differ in color depending on what chemicals are contained in their composition. For example, blue cheese is blue because one of the chemicals in the grass that cows eat turns it this color. Cheese is a very interesting thing when you allow it to overwhelm your mind and life force.<p>

Riding aboard an overcrowded bus, however, is not.

Zerubbabel stood in the middle of the aisle while clutching on to a ceiling handle for dear life. _Honestly, this guy drives like a drunk llama!_ She thought as the bus haphazardly rounded another corner. During that time she became way more acquainted with her neighbor's nose than she had ever wanted to be. She wondered if she might have been better off staying with that dwarf. Upon arrival at the subway station, Zerubbabel had managed to lose the vertically challenged kidnapper in a large crowd of businessmen. After following them for a while, she ran up the concrete stairs to the sidewalk, and caught a bus just before the little man spotted her again.

She was now heading to who-knows-where. Her plan was basically to get off at the first stop, flag down a taxi, and make her way over to the theater. The only problem was, they could be speeding off to Mars and she wouldn't know. The only hope left for her was that the next stop was nearby.

* * *

><p>An hour later, Zerubbabel still hoped that the bus would be letting people off soon. Or maybe she had caught the Dutch version of the Polar Express and they weren't going to stop until they reached the North Pole. <em>Now, there's an idea,<em> Zerubbabel thought grimly, _Plenty of penguins, no bald politicians there to bother you, and plenty of ice to make an igloo out of_. Sounded like prime Real Estate.

Finally, the bus driver stomped on the brakes. There was a terrible screeching sound as the bus skidded to a halt beside a worn-down bus stop. Feeling relieved, Zerubbabel pushed and shoved until she managed to extricate herself from the Public Transportation Vehicle of Death. This sense of relief was short-lived, however. As she gazed at her surroundings, she realized she had no clue where she even was. All that could be seen for miles around was very flat farmland, some quaint little cottages, with the occasional windmill. There was a lot of grass as well, though that did little to help Zerubbabel figure out her location. Hoping she could use her GPS to discover where she was, she yanked her cell phone out of her pocket and turned on the GPS. The phone stated on its screen that it had no Internet connection and suggested she try again later. _If_ there was a later.

Resigning herself to the fact that she would just have to knock on doors and figure out where she was, Zerubbabel headed down the dirt road. Her heels started to ache from the wedges she was wearing after half an hour or so, so she ripped her shoes off and stored them in her purse. Her bare feet couldn't handle being in such close contact with the pebbles on the road, and took her over to the lush green grass a foot away. Zerubbabel cast her gaze down the hill beside her, not looking for anything in particular. Suddenly, she stopped. A little well lay a ways from her, but it was the thing behind it that had caused her to stop in her tracks. What appeared to be the weathered ruins of what had been a grand castle made their presence known through their sheer enormity. Zerubbabel stared down at the ruins, and then directed her feet toward it. This investigation was too unusual to miss.

The wind echoed through the empty halls of the castle. The roof had been almost completely removed by the force of the wind all these years. Zerubbabel left through an opening she presumed to have been the door at some point. The scene before her was of the tiny well she had noticed, a few ancient-looking trees, and a girl.

Hang on. A girl?

Zerubbabel stopped in her tracks and stared at the small figure. She had black hair, red lips, and wore a blue shirt accompanied by a pair of yellow skinny jeans. "Who are you?" she asked the petite but beautiful youth.

"My name is Snow. But who are you?"

"My name is Zerubbabel." Still gazing at her, Zerubbabel waited for the usual mockery of her name.

Snow only said, "Oh. Interesting."

"What?"

"I've heard of you. My old friend in Alsace said a supermodel with a funny name came to visit her. She claimed she told you of Indie's whereabouts, here in Holland."

Strange. The woman had seemed so old that she would experience no memory retention. "I suppose that must be me. If you know Indie's mother, you wouldn't perchance know where Indie is at the moment? I know she travels with the theater company, but they aren't showing _Cinderella_ right now."

"Indie's gone. She left on a plane this morning."

Disappointment once again. "Do you know where?"

"Somewhere in Germany, I think. She said something about wanting to buy another home there for the fall."

"Can you get me in contact with her?"

"I'm sorry, no. I only ever even get to talk to her when she comes to Holland every once in a while. She refuses to give out contact information. Apparently she was involved in a pretty sketchy affair way back when."

"Great."

"I could help you find her if you want. I need to return something to her, anyway. That's why I'm here," Snow offered, gesturing to the tree by the well, "She adores the apples from this tree. I always come to pick them and give them away. I don't much care for the fruit myself."

Finally, someone who was willing to help! "Of course I would love your help. You'll have to buy your own plane ticket, though. I'm afraid my 'benefactor' wouldn't care to have me rack up more expenses for someone else."

"I can pay."

"Alright then! Let's meet over at the Koninklijk Theatre Cerré in Amsterdam. You know where that is, right?"

"Yes."

"Then we'll meet there at ten o'clock tomorrow morning and fly to Germany. Will that work for you?"

"I believe so, Zerubbabel. It was nice meeting you."

"You too. I'll see you tomorrow." With that, Zerubbabel very nearly skipped back over to the bus stop. She would wait there all night for the bus to come if she had to.

At long last, she had a plan.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: That brings us to the end of chapter 5. The title is a reference to the Frank Sinatra song "Fly Me to the Moon". I will have the next chapter up hopefully by next Tuesday.  
><strong>

**The award of the reenactment of Pompeii and a real brownie goes to... my cats! I bought fourteen of them from a shelter last week, two for every day none of you reviewed. One of my kitties really enjoys brownies, though, so she doesn't mind. The next prize will be a rose and a free "TheTrulyBeautifulOne" tee. There's plenty to go around, so help yourself to the "review" button. Go on. Just once won't hurt *fingers crossed*. Do you really want me to end up with twenty-eight cats?! I didn't think readers of my stories would be so cruel. Maybe I shouldn't put so many cliffhangers in...**


	6. A Late Confession

**A/N: Hey you guys! I'm here with another chapter! It's not very polished, but it should at least make sense. I've been insanely busy this past week. I explored more of why Zerubbabel is so tough, and here's what I came up with!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6: A Late Confession<strong>

If a tree falls in a forest when no one is around to hear, does it still make a sound?

Or perhaps, if a tree falls in a forest, and hits a mime, does anyone care?

Zerubbabel certainly knew the answer to the question. Nobody cared about mimes.

As for the first, she really didn't know. All she was certain pertaining to sound was that sound was annoying. Especially when you are trying to sleep.

Snow continued to snore unequivocally. Zerubbabel wondered if she was a singer. A girl with a snore like that must have quite a set of lungs on her. I mean, she was _next door_ and probably keeping everyone within a five-mile radius of the hotel up. Then again, Germans were likely very used to loudness. They were as a people quite abrupt themselves.

Zerubbabel rolled over again. She had been tossing and turning all night long. _She should get a job as a siren,_ she thought as she shifted her head's placement on the pillow for what felt like the billionth time. Finally giving up, the spy sat up and placed her feet on the floor. A groan emitted from her lips as she shifted her full body weight to her feet. Insomnia was really the worst thing in the world. Even worse than zippers.

Zerubbabel stumbled through the dark room to the door. As she opened it, it creaked as though it had been out of use and care for a long period of time. Come to mention it, the entire hotel looked old. Not even vintage old, an old so ancient Zerubbabel's great-great grandparents might have visited the place. Scarlet paint adorned the high walls in the hallway. Heavy rugs blanketed the wood planks of flooring. Tables of unknown origin collected dust. Zerubbabel could've sworn the Victorian paintings hanging on the walls had had a place somewhere in her history text book. The hotel rested in all its glory, ancient yet with a certain charm, like a weathered stone castle.

Thinking she would visit the lobby and see if she could rest on the couch in there, she directed her feet in the corresponding direction. Soon, however, they rammed into something. Zerubbabel looked up. Not some_thing_, some_one_. She gasped as she caught sight of the elderly gentleman's pained face, when she realized she had mistakenly stepped on his toe. "I'm so sorry," she apologized, "I wasn't watching where I was going, and—"

"Now, now," the old man replied, "these toes have received many a-stepping on. Just one more can't hurt."

Zerubbabel couldn't help but smile at his kindness. The patron before her reminded her of her sweet old grandfather. When she was little, he used to pick her up, place her on his knee, and tell her stories of his adventures on the African terrain (he had made his living as an archaeologist before he retired). As she grew older, she would request her favorite stories so he would recount them in his beautiful voice. She also recalled her grandmother baking her famous chocolate chip cookies. Zerubbabel would always beg her to let her take just one as soon as they were out of the oven. Her grandmother would smile, but tell her, "If I let you eat one now, you won't have room for dinner. Now run along and play before you tempt me into giving you one." Lost in these sweet memories of her deceased grandparents, Zerubbabel did not notice that the man in front of her was trying to get her attention.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I must've dozed off," she apologized again.

"You were smiling. You must have been dreaming," he answered. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled with her.

"Yes."

"May I ask what about?"

Zerubbabel suddenly felt very uncomfortable. She wasn't in the habit of sharing her feelings with anyone, even gentle old men. Deliberating a few seconds more, she decided: "Yes. I was remembering my grandparents."

"Ah," the man replied knowingly, "Family is one of the greatest joys we have in this life. You must care for them very much."

"I did." She paused. "But they died in a housefire when I was seventeen. None of their belongings survived."

The man was silent for a moment. "I'm so very sorry," he managed.

Zerubbabel couldn't be sure, but she thought she saw tears emerging in his eyes. A stranger, crying over the sudden deaths of people he had never met?

All of a sudden, a wave of anger washed over her.

"Yes, well," she said as she moved over to continue treading a path to the lounge, "I was very devastated. I'm fine now though, so there's no need to feel sorry for me. If you'll excuse me."

The old man, however, followed her at his time-induced shuffling pace. "I assure you I am sorry for your loss. Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

Though it may have seemed an easy question to answer, Zerubbabel still had to ponder it. Was she really alright? Had she really gotten over her beloved grandparents' tragic death? _Well, if I wasn't, how could this old man help me?_ He doesn't know me or what I've been through. How on earth could a total stranger help her recover?

And why was she so tempted to let him?

With that, Zerubbabel came to her decision. "Yes, I want to talk about it. But can we do it in a more private area? I don't usually pour out my soul to the whole world in public."

"Of course. The lounge should be empty right now. We can talk there."

The unlikely pair headed over to the usually busy lounge. Sure enough it was empty. Zerubbabel sat on an overstuffed couch, while the elderly man settled into a worn arm chair. "Well," he asked, "Where would you like to begin?"

As though a bomb had gone off inside of her, Zerubbabel began telling this old man her life's story. The origin of her name, her childhood memories, everything was explained to the stranger.

"I'm here now to find Indie, and I have her friend Snow with me. I've made progress, but I can't help but feel like it's hopeless. I feel like I'm searching for a needle that I'm not even sure is in the haystack."

"Indie, you said her name was?"

"Yes," answered Zerubbabel suspiciously, "Why?"

"I think I can help you."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Cliffhanger! Like I said, I was in a pretty big rush when I wrote this chapter. Don't worry I'll continue it next update!**

**The prize of the rose and TheTrulyBeautifulOne T-shirt go to "Guest"! Here you go! *hands you lovely red rose and most beautiful T-shirt ever* Thank you so much for the support! Last chapter has already surpassed chapter 4 in views! Way to go, guys!**

**The next prize will be... One baby animal of the reviewer's choice and a studded bracelet with unicorns on it! Now, this offer is even harder to resist. I know, I'm evil. But I love it. If you want to win the prize, review and tell me your favorite animal, real or mythical. I have this great supplier called Imagination that lets me buy whatever pets I want!**

**Review and let me know whether I should do more emotional chapters or not!**


	7. A Rhetoric in Retrospect

**A/N: My Valentine's Day gift to you is a new chapter, full of romance and intrigue- and an account of my fabrications. I made a special effort to make this one more exciting than the past chapters, since even I was getting bored with the story. It must be good, as I'm pretty sure I gave my computer a headache while writing this.**

**Also, please note that I do not own _The Princess Bride, Father of the Bride,_ or _Looney Tunes._ Though I would gladly challenge at least William Goldman to a battle of wits for the rights to _The Princess Bride._**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7: A Rhetoric in Retrospect<strong>

* * *

><p>"Mawidge. Vewy old. Mawidge is a dweam wiffin a dweam. The dweam of wuv wapped wiffin the gweater dweam of everwasting west. Eternity is our fwiend, wemember that, and wuv wiw fowwow you fowever."<p>

"Dad, I met a guy in Wome. And he's wonderful and bwiwwiant, and we're getting mawwied."

"I'm hunting wabbits."

Is it just me, the most illustrious authoress of this tragic tale of myth and mystery (don't waste your time trying to figure out where the myth and mystery is. I am the writer, so I can say what I like), or do most influential people suffer from misplaced "r"s and "w"s? The Impressive Clergyman from _The Princess Bride_, Annie from _Father of the Bride_, and Elmer Fudd from _Looney Tunes_—all supremely influential characters for children and adults of all generations. What is it with the random exchange of "r"s with "w"s that makes everyone in the world love their exchangers so much? Could it be the innocence of their words? The relatability? The amount of grave-digging completed? Whatever the case, Rhoticism continues to plague society in great numbers.

Now, if you're wondering as to what the point of all this is, I'll tell you: I don't know.

I do know that Zerubbabel was also totally unaware of how she had ended up where she was. There she was, bound and gagged with twine and wire. In a shopping cart, no less. Her captors had even used her own designer shoelaces to tie her hair up. And she still had no clue what had happened.

All she knew was that it had begun when the old man told her Indie's last location. She had returned to her room, so tired that she toppled onto the bed in her hotel room and fell asleep immediately. When she awoke that morning, she felt refreshed, as she had formulated an entirely fail-safe and fool-proof plan. But do not fawn over her ability to think in her sleep too soon, readers. Her plan consisted of finding a way to get to Indie's location in Meissen, somehow convincing her to take over her job, and heading back to an airport to head back home. Yes, a very well-thought-out plan that accounted for all the variables. She should win a medal.

Anyways, Zerubbabel woke up with a plan in mind. Her subsequent knock on Snow's door was only to be expected of a vastly impatient woman. Snow had been in the middle of doing her makeup. Barely giving her time to pack up her suitcase of makeup, Zerubbabel rushed Snow out the door. As a now very grumpy Snow and Zerubbabel, feeling agog with exhilaration over how close she was to obtaining her dream job, scarfed down a quick breakfast, Zerubbabel used her GPS to locate the nearest train station. She had run Snow out the door so fast when she realized the next train left in ten minutes, Snow swore she felt dizzy.

Once they had finally purchased their tickets and gotten on the train, Zerubbabel had calmed down a bit. _Just a few more hours before I'm free,_ she thought to herself. She laid her head back and closed her eyes.

An hour later, the train squealed to a stop as they entered a train station. Feeling refreshed from her hectic morning (and ignoring poor Snow's groaning protests), she stepped off the train with Snow in tow. As they ran down the walk, desperately trying to reach a bike rental store, Zerubbabel suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. _Oh no,_ she despaired. Standing before her and the panting Snow was a certain former governor whose face Zerubbabel knew better than she liked to admit. Hoping to sneak by unnoticed, she motioned to Snow to follow her lead and tiptoe by while he examined a shop window. They had almost gotten out of hearing range when he turned, spotted them, and yelled, "Hey!"

The two young women began sprinting down the walk as the older man chased after them. **(A/N: He shouted a few more times, but none of the words that escaped his mouth are what I would consider to be a K-plus rating.)** Despite his desperate shouts of profanity, Zerubbabel and Snow did not slow down, or even look back.

Zerubbabel caught sight of a corner that appeared to lead into an alleyway, and took the chance without another moment of deliberation. Snow continued to follow her lead. They dived into the tiny alleyway, just as the heaving governor passed their hiding place.

"Who was.. that?" Snow panted, clutching a stitch in her side.

"Former client of mine. We heard he was donating vast amounts of money to pass a bill that would make private detective agencies illegal."

"And?"

"And we followed normal procedure. I get him off guard with my beauty and charms, then the big guys come in to save the day." Zerubbabel shuddered unexpectedly. "That is the closest I have ever come to kissing a man at least three times my age. I had to take time off after that case."

"Why is he here in Germany, if he lives in America?"

"He's a politician, Snow. They like to go to places hardly anyone can afford to play golf."  
>"Huh."<p>

"That about sums it up." It was in that moment that Zerubbabel caught sight of a frying pan aimed at her.

Snow began chattering away about some abnormally short friends she used to have. "They were so fun. I made them breakfast every day before they left for work. They were diamond miners, you know. Beautiful jewels, some given to me—"

"Snow."

"My favorite was a yellow one they found, truly beautiful. That was when I had a necklace made. Just imagine, that beautiful jewel as a pendant—"

"Snow!"

"What?"

"You might want to look behind you."

Snow did so, and was silent instantly.

A voice from the shadows whispered, "Make one wrong move, and I hit you with the frying pan."

Zerubbabel and Snow turned to each other, terror etched on both of their perfect faces.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: CLIFFHANGER! Do you know how long I've been waiting to include one? I live for torturing you guys!**

**Most (un)regrettably, I spent this week on my couch eating bon-bons as I wallowed in self-misery. Another week has gone by with no reviews, and I didn't even have the energy to buy more cats. So the last chapter's prize goes to... my local candy store! Thank you for supplying the unlimited bon-bons. Your contribution is duly noted.**

**This week's prize is the best yet: Two tickets to see the donkey races, and caterwauling lessons from my favorite cat! I really am evil. Next thing I know, I'll be running around playing golf and telling everyone what to do. If you want to save me from this fate, you'll review *pulls out sandwich* Or else... Hang on, I grabbed the wrong thing!**


	8. A Forlorn Frying Pan

**A/N: I'm baaaaack! I know you're all so excited to see me again!**

**This chapter honestly isn't that great, but I think it's tolerable... but not handsome enough to tempt me! Yes, I did just do that. Deal with it. This chapter is another filler, but things will be really exciting in the next few updates!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8: Forlorn Frying Pans<strong>

* * *

><p>The key to happiness is…<p>

I'm sure you were on the edge of your seat for one fleeting moment there. I'm sure you moved to the front of your chair, drew your face as close to the screen as humanly possible without breaking your nose, and read the sentence above as quickly as you possibly could.

I realized this week that as human beings, we all search for the "key" to happiness. I know I myself have contemplated the issue many times, turning it over and over in my head, but to no avail. If you were to ask me, I would first reply the obvious answer as religion (if you've read my profile, this makes a lot more sense). However, since I am trying to keep this story available to all, I will attempt to discover another reply.

… … … … Ah, no luck. The reason I am talking about this is because of what someone asked me today, and no, the question was not about the key to happiness. On the contrary, I was innocently sitting in class, minding my own business, when someone I know came up to me (she is one of the only other humans in my class—that's mainly how we know each other). Anyway, she approached me, leaned her elbows on the desk, and asked, "How can I overcome my negative attitude?" After barely a second had passed, I replied, "Eat chocolate."

Now, my dear readers, you hold the key to happiness. Guard it well. **(A/N: Please note that I am by no means leaving out the people who don't like/ can't have chocolate. I hope you get the basic idea without me offending you.)**

Zerubbabel knew what held the key to her happiness. And no, it wasn't chocolate. As she struggled, bound and tied to her seat, she had a perfect knowledge of what held the key to happiness for her; in her case, it was an actual key. The key on the ring that hung from her captor's belt, to be precise.

A whole lot of things had happened since she and Snow had been captured in the dark alley after running away from her dear old governor friend. Her last memory was of the man's face coming into the light before everything went black. She now sported a humongous goose egg on her forehead, though Zerubbabel couldn't imagine where it had come from.

After she had come to, Zerubbabel discovered that her hands and feet were bound to a chair by thick pieces of rope. These new arrangements she found to be horribly inconvenient. Her handsome—er, wicked—captor had confiscated her cell phone once it had started ringing incessantly. With it blew away Zerubbabel's last hope of rescue. Besides a save made by Snow, but those hopes were quickly dashed when Zerubbabel noticed Snow wandering around the prison without a care in the world. So much for that dandruff-head.

A sharp voice brought Zerubbabel out of her recollections. "What's your name, Beautiful?" Zerubbabel was shocked when she discovered that the sharp voice belonged to her dashing kidnapper. She felt her sarcasm return in one sentence:

"I don't really feel like telling you, but I can assure you it isn't Beautiful."

The man threw his head of thick brown hair back in a laugh that made his shoulders shake. "Oh no," he snickered, wiping tears from his eyes, "And here I was thinking how fitting it would be."

"Nice flirting. Do you take lessons, by any chance?"

"No. What do you take me for, a Prince Charming wannabe?"

Silence.

"Ouch. Okay, here's the thing. I need to know your name so I can look you up and see if you're attached. Oh, my name is Flynn, by the way." He batted his eyelashes ridiculously.

_And that's why you never go for looks alone,_ Zerubbabel sighed. _So much for intelligence._ "I'll tell you what. If your name is Flynn, I would seem to have a file back at my office that would have a lot of information on you. Running away from an orphanage, or perhaps, stealing a princess's crown sound familiar?"

Flynn just gaped at her, looking utterly flabbergasted.

"I thought so. Here's the offer: if you let me go, then I'll forget about everything in that file. Especially the parts Rapunzel doesn't know about. But if you don't, she's going to receive some pretty shocking revelations about you."

He blanched, his mouth opening even wider.

"I see we're in agreement. In that case—"

It was then that Flynn found his voice. "No can do. As much as I would love to let you go, I'm under orders to keep you here."

Zerubbabel snorted. As if the infamous Flynn Rider had taken orders from anyone in his entire lifetime.

"I'm serious, for once. I sort of owed these guys a favor, so I'm stuck. And since you can't tell Rapunzel anything while you're locked up, I think I'll just wait right here." He lowered himself onto a nearby cushioned chair and propped his feet up on a table.

_Great. Just peachy,_ Zerubbabel thought. _No way out, no blackmail, no bait… what else is there to be done?_ That's when the idea hit her. A glorious, beautiful idea that had no chance of leading her astray.

"So, Flynn, you said you owe those guys a favor?"

"Yep. Recruited them in my last purge of the Snuggly Duckling. Too many little girls were running in and ruining the man-cave aura."

Zerubbabel went on as though his comment had made sense: "Alright. Well, I have had my share of convincing people to do things they normally wouldn't… if you let me see one of them, I might just be able to convince them to let you off the hook—with some extra entitlements."

"What kind of entitlements?"

"Oh, you know the usual, fame, fortune, islands, et cetera."

The next thing Zerubbabel knew, she was conversing with Flynn's superior. He had waddled in on his teeny legs, muttering under his breath with what appeared to be a permanently grumpy expression on his face.

"What is it _you_ want? This guy said you were whining and complaining too much."

Startled by his short stature, Zerubbabel shrugged. "I suppose I may have been a little high pitched in my demands, but only a little." She pouted. "I just wanted to be able to talk to you. I mean, you must be so strong and brave to order Flynn Rider around like that."

"Well, I suppose that could be true…"

"And I wanted to discuss other things, but they're not as important."

Zerubbabel caught the dwarf in her gaze, and refused to look away. Then, she set to work.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This is probably the shortest chapter. I'm sorry, I just haven't had time to write anything worth reading yet! But I can promise the next chapter will be better. Pinky swear.**

**Last week's prize of two tickets to the donkey races and caterwauling lessons goes to... Scoobycool9 and Luckycool9! Thank you for your great review, and I will keep your suggestions in mind (yoinks sandwich back, accidentally tearing it in half) (knocks other half out of hand) (Picks the other half up off the ground and shoves it in mouth) No one steals my sandwiches! You are always welcome to one of my siblings, of course.**

**Next week's prize will be *drumroll* some 75% off Valentine's Day chocolates and a poster of Abraham Lincoln crossing the Delaware. I know, each week's offer keeps getting better! I hope you do know that you can review more than once. In fact, you could review every chapter, and maybe you would get a special prize from me (Seriously, this story is 8 chapters long now and I only have 4 reviews!). Just something to think about...**

**Please review! You can tell me something totally boring or random, I just need acknowledgment that people are actually reading this!**


	9. The Other Agency

**A/N: I am back, and I bring glad tidings of great entertainment: Another chapter! I made this one longer, but I won't get to the real meat of the story until next week, so I'm afraid you'll just have to wait.**

**Please note that I do not own _Harry Potter_, no matter how many times I wish upon a star too. I guess I'll just have to recruit the Man in Black, Inigo, and Fezzik to help me get the rights... Was that out loud?**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9: The <em>Other<em> Agency**

* * *

><p>Those dunderheads are at it again.<p>

You may ask, "What dunderheads?" Or perhaps more accurately, "Which dunderheads?" These are the dunderheads all of us are too familiar with. I suppose the best way to say it would be through the words of J.K. Rowling:

"Teachers are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them… Get too near a teacher and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you." I think that just about sums up everyone who has ever attended school's life.

I hope I have answered your question. If not, get some glasses and an aspirin. This is going to take a while.

Zerubbabel certainly had never cared for her teachers. All of them were the type that loved to dream about saying things they really hadn't. For example, one time one of the other students asked when a test was. The teacher, turning to the class asked them to tell the irresponsible nobody when it was. The silence was deafening as the only sound to be heard were crickets. The teacher had never told them when the test was.

Her entire life was a lot like that right now. The dwarf seemed to have deemed it unimportant to warn her that he had six brothers that did not enjoy people messing with their brother. No sooner had she turned on her floozy charms just for the grumpy little man, than a whole swarm of the vertically challenged converged on her. These little men were remarkably agile and quick for having such short limbs. In no time at all, they had Zerubbabel tied up again. Back to the drawing board.

The strangest part was how Snow had simply allowed seven little men tie her up. Though she looked weak, she could've at least called on that Flynn Rider to come help. But she hadn't. She just sat there and watched with an amused little smile on her face. Ah, well. The traitor was gone now. She didn't have enough brain cells to find Indie anyway.

Right as Zerubbabel thought this, Flynn reentered the room. "Why, Beautiful," he swaggered, "we must stop meeting like this."

Zerubbabel stuck her tongue out at him. "I would appreciate it if you got me out of these ropes. They're awfully inconvenient."

"Well, today you're in luck. My superiors have said the coast is clear, and we can go to the office."

"What office?"

"Acting even when I know you are. So cute. But seriously, you work for a secret agency?"

"Well, not really secret, but it's not government-run…"  
>"Same difference. The boss said we are good to go, and can head out whenever we need to."<p>

_Her_ boss had given _him_ clearance to do what he wanted? Zerubbabel was becoming very confused, but decided to go along with it. The only place he could be referring to was NINJA. "Alright," she replied. "How about you untie me, and we can go to the office?"

"That sounds more like it." Flynn moved to untie her hands. "Wait a second…"

"_Now_ what?!" Zerubbabel was also becoming very annoyed very quickly.

"You have to make me a promise."

_Oh no._ "What kind of promise?"

"You have to promise me that as soon as you get to that file you have on me, you'll give it to me, no questions asked and none answered. Deal?"

"No deal. I can't give up valuable information like that."

"Hold out your hands." Baffled, Zerubbabel stretched out her long fingers, though her wrists were still bound together. Flynn bent to examine each of them, then resumed his posture.

"Well, that's a relief. Your comment had me worried whether the reason you can't hand over my file was because you don't have hands. So, since they are not missing, there is no excuse."

"The answer is still no."

"If that's what you really want…

"Hey Grumpy! Come over here for a second!"

Zerubbabel would've hit him if her hands were free. She would've taken him by the ear, and given him one of her signature nose punches. The blow would be fatal to the olfactorily- obsessed blackmailer. However, she was forced to give in. She knew she would not survive another onslaught of dwarfs.

"Fine. You win."

"You can't possibly imagine how much I love hearing that."

"Don't get too used to it, Wannabe. I'm only doing this so you'll untie me."

"With pleasure." Flynn again bent to untie her hands and feet. Once he had completed his task, he stood back and examined the rope strewn across the ground.

"How are we getting to the office?" Zerubbabel inquired.

"Train. Or we could go for a romantic evening stroll." He winked.

"Train is plenty smelly without you for company, but I suppose it's better than the alternative." Zerubbabel turned towards the door.

Upon reaching the outside, Zerubbabel saw that it was indeed evening. The sun was setting as they walked to the train station up ahead. The sky was washed with magnificent shades of scarlet and ocher. She gasped as she took in the beauty of it all.

"I used to enjoy sunsets, but then I got used to them," Flynn commented, "They're old news now."

Paying no attention to his shallow editorial, Zerubbabel sped up in her trek to the train station. The sooner she got away from the hopeless flirt, the better. Besides, he shouldn't be flirting with her when Rapunzel would hit him with a frying pan if she found out. Wait—a frying pan? Zerubbabel let out a startled laugh while ignoring Flynn's weirded-out look in her direction. Zerubbabel had just determined the source of her goose egg.

* * *

><p>The train ride to whatever location this place was at went fairly quickly, considering the company. Flynn simply rattled off every pick-up line ever invented, and Zerubbabel only replied with the occasional rebuttal. Upon arrival at their destination, she let out a sigh of relief. Now she could figure out what on Earth was going on.<p>

Zerubbabel allowed Flynn to lead her to the office. They certainly took a long route, if you counted all the people milling about the streets while completing their menial tasks. The street was paved with cobblestone, just like in a fairytale. Zerubbabel shuddered. She had hated fairytales ever since she read the one about a fourteen-year-old girl living with seven men, then being carried away by her Prince after two meetings, one of which didn't really count since she was dead for most of it. Zerubbabel had had nightmares about frilly dresses and short, substandard, poufy-sleeved princes for weeks afterward.

This place had that certain old charm, making fairytales seem a little less horrifying. The cobblestone streets had character, and the shops were the kind that appeared to have been built to be upstanding members of the society. All of them were old, judging by the rotting signs that still hung for no better reason than nostalgia. This was the sort of town Zerubbabel would like to live in someday. Good thing she had taken German.

Flynn led them through a large accumulation of the town's residence before turning into an abandoned alley way. They hurried along this alley for a few minutes, sensing the accomplishment of their goal. Suddenly, Flynn stopped by an old crate. "What's wrong?" Zerubbabel asked, worried at their abrupt halt. Without answering, Flynn placed his hands on the crate as though he were searching for something. After a moment of total silence, he shouted, "Aha!" and pulled on one of the nails.

Zerubbabel was not left worrying about his sanity for long. A large panel that camouflaged amazingly well with the surrounding cobblestone instantly emerged from the ground. With mounting excitement, Flynn waited for it to finish lifting itself away from the ground. When it was finished, there was a large square-shaped, very black and very dark hole in its place. "Ladies first," Flynn grinned.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: There you have it! Like I said before, next week's chapter should be super amazing. Oh, who am I kidding? All my writing is amazing because it is written by ME! *cue eye rolls***

**Thanks to Scoobycool9 and Luckycool9 for the lovely review! And to answer your questions: Zerubbabel only knows about the scandals she's worked with at NINJA, and as Flynn's was one that involved a monarchy, they were involved in the case. And no, this all take place in my head. I hear these characters' voices all the time up there. Anyway, your review has one you some 75% off Valentine's Day chocolates and a poster of Abraham Lincoln crossing the Delaware. Thank you.**

**Next week's prize will go thusly: for one review, ALL my readers receive 50 brownie points (reviewers get 100). If I get two, readers receive 100 brownie points, and reviewers 150, and so on. This story is almost ten chapters long now, so I really need that feedback! I'll even be grateful for a review that has a lame comment about Chuck Norris or reads "I like pie." Just say whatever you want to, and I will love you forever!**

**By the way, I am going to be going through the chapters and editing them, so beware! Be very, very, ware! I'll let you know if I completely change any of them. Chapters 4 and 6 are probably on the chopping block, just so you know to reread those when I tell you to! That's all!**


	10. A SAD Day

**A/N: This is a short chapter, but don't blame me. Blame my teachers, who refuse to believe that Logic owuld dictate that copious amounts of homework are undoable. However, I think it's still good, and I didn't want to drag on forever.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10: A SAD Day<strong>

* * *

><p>With every human comes a list of things they would rather not do. These lists usually contain such things as going to school or eating monkey brains. But there are those who are not so crass. They write lists of things they absolutely, positively, <em>refuse<em> to do.

Jumping down a bottomless black pit was most definitely in the top ten on Zerubbabel's list.

Zerubbabel stared down at the dark hole, wondering if there could possibly be a bottom. "Whatever happened to being a gentleman?" she asked Flynn, still uneasy.

"Oh, you'll be fine. Really," he replied with an unconvincing smirk on his face.

That smirk gave Zerubbabel all the courage she needed. "Here goes nothing… hopefully," she muttered as she stepped up to the pit. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, lifted her chin, and took a step.

It happened in an instant. One moment she was drifting ethereally down into a dark abyss, still keeping her eyes shut tight. The next second, she was slowing in her descent, and another second later, her feet touched the ground. Flynn followed shortly afterward, though Zerubbabel was proud to notice that he hadn't landed as gracefully as she had.

Zerubbabel gazed at her surroundings in total awe. The room, or rather expanse, was a wilderness of activity. There were people on computers, people on phones, people at desks talking to other people. There were even a few people scrubbing the meticulous white floors. Zerubbabel gazed at the high, vaulted ceiling above her, and at the bustle in front of her. "What is this place?" she wondered aloud.

"The Society for the Attainment of Devotion. Or SAD, for short. I think it fits."

here?" Zerubbabel inquired, forgetting that she was supposed to already know.

"You mean you don't know?"

"Uh, no—I totally know, I was just seeing if you…" she trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"Oh. great. I've brought an outsider to the headquarters. Bambi is going to have my head…"

"Wait, Bambi?! You mean that deer in that one story?"

"You don't know the story of Bambi?"

"Well, no, but I think I read it once. I think that's how I knew he was a deer. You should be proud of me."

"I'll be proud when you can trademark my smolder. You'll get free, signed pictures for life."

"Ha ha. So, since I'm already here, what does this Society for the Anthropomorphic or whatever do?"

"The Society for the Attainment of Devotion. Sheesh.

"SAD is the organization that is the root of all Disney. You know that the typical Disney story has two star-crossed lovers that look like they can't be together, but then the magical wand-waving makes everything perfect."

"Yeah…"

"Well, even Disney has a behind-the-scenes. SAD is the one that finds the princess, creates a situation, and trains the prince on how to win her heart. Simple as that."

"Wait, so you mean that Disney actually has the story happen? You know, they don't just recycle old actors?"

"Mostly. A few actors have been recycled. Take Kristoff, for example. He had a perfectly good role in _The Jungle Book_ as Mowgli, but he wanted more popularity. So they gave him a sidekick reindeer and called it a movie. He was too busy with _Frozen_ to attend the classes SAD provides. That's why he ended up with Anna."

"Hm." That was all there was left to say to the guy Flynn was pointing towards. Except, "He needs a haircut."

"I was all for growing out my beard, splitting it down the middle and wrapping it around my ears as earrings, but Rapunzel wouldn't let me for some reason."

"Yes, it's a real mystery," Zerubbabel jabbed as she caught the eye of an official-looking person across the room. They wore a bright blue jumpsuit, which sparked an amazing contrast to the white everyone else in the room wore. As soon as Zerubbabel caught their eye, she moved toward them, not caring if Flynn followed or not.

Once she had successfully navigated the maze of people and desks, Zerubbabel came to a halt in front of the woman in the bright blue jumpsuit. She waited for the woman to finish her conversation with the nearby personnel before getting her attention. "Excuse me," she asked, "But you wouldn't happen to know where the SAD classes are, would you? He's supposed to be going, but we lost the address."

"Certainly. Just go out that door," the woman pointed out a door to the left, "And go all the way down the hallway. The door at the end should get you there."

"Thank you," Zerubbabel replied. Then, in a split second, the idea came to her. What a way to figure out what was going on and get extra points with her boss! Quickly, she whipped out her tranquilizer hairspray. Without a moment's notice, Zerubbabel sprayed it all over the woman's hair and caught her as she slumped down. She then fireman-carried the woman out the nearest door, getting lost in a crowd so she wouldn't be noticed. Once safely in a hallway, Zerubbabel strode to a glass door that speared to lead outside. And in the blink of an eye, she escaped.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I promise I will have a longer chapter up next week! I just didn't have enough time to really work on this one, and I lost patience at the end, so I just cut it short. I hope you liked it anyways!**

**Last week's offer still stands, as I have not gotten any reviews. Haven't I suffered enough? *sniff* If you want me to actually put effort into the next update, I'd like two reviews by next week. If they don't arrive, I'll make a character fall down a well. I'm warning you. This is my last hope for a few reviews, so make me happy!**


End file.
